


distance makes the heart grow fonder

by Idk_hi_iguess



Category: Bridgerton (TV)
Genre: (tm), (uh oh!), Bridgertons Being Bridgertons, Fainting, Multi, Sickfic, Society gossip, colin is a fool, there's a bad joke about periods because i am Awful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29927085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idk_hi_iguess/pseuds/Idk_hi_iguess
Summary: "I have to go, don't I?"
Relationships: Benedict Bridgerton/Henry Granville, Benedict Bridgerton/Henry Granville/Lucy Granville
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	distance makes the heart grow fonder

The warm glow of The Granville’s dining room wrapped him in a snug duvet that was almost certainly mostly due to the three glasses of wine he had drunk during the first two courses. His vision was coloured, everything seeming brighter and more interesting. Their plates of cheese and crackers left the table, a light interlude between the rich cuts of meat of the main course and whatever awaited them for desert. Him, Anthony, Colin, Henry and Lucy all sat around an intimate round table at the centre of the dining room, surrounded by various paintings and vases of flowers. 

Benedict nudged Henry, who was sitting next to him, and leaned in close, “What do you suppose they're plotting?” He jested, pointing to where Lucy and Anthony were collapsing in helpless piles of giggles. 

He shot him a smile, and if Benedict noticed it was less enthusiastic than usual he didn’t seem concerned, “Probably our tragic demise.”

“I dread to think,” He pressed a sloppy kiss to Henry’s cheek and turned to Anthony, “What exactly has seized you two into such a state?” 

“Your brother,” Lucy said through desperate gasps for air, “is trying to get me to divulge what goes on at Lady Danbury’s women-only parties.”

Colin jumped into the conversation, “Well I’d certainly like to know! Pen goes to those often, and always returns looking rather self satisfied.”

“See! That’s why I want to know!” Anthony’s face was still creased with laughter but he seemed to have regained his breath. 

“Can a woman have no secrets anymore?” She said, mock-outraged. 

Colin outstretched his arms as if Sunday church had come early, “Please, Lucy?” 

“Well,” She began, and both Bridgerton brothers leaned forwards. Benedict pretended that he didn’t. “You must have heard women speak of a monthly,” she coughed, “occurrence? Well, see how it is monthly, do you know what else is monthly?” She asked with a flourish. 

“Lady Danbury’s parties!” Anthony drunkenly half yelled with the air of a top detective cracking a case. Benedict noticed Henry wince next to him. He had been nursing a bad hangover all day and had abstained from the wine tonight. But by now one would expect it to be fine this late in the day. “Wait, that’s definitely not how that works.”

Colin just looked more confused, “Lucy, I’m scared to ask, but what?” 

She remained silent, sitting heavily back in her chair with such an aura of self-satisfied mischief that Benedict instantly knew she was joking. He did not acknowledge that he had been wondering what she meant himself, before it had clicked. Instead he laughed out loud at the befuddled frown that Colin wore. 

Anthony looked like a drunk man at a betting table trying to act as if he had all his wits about him whilst trying to decipher the meaning of the cards. 

“I think that might be the best explanation we’re going to get.” He commiserated by slapping Colin on the shoulder. His face hardly changed, “Wow, don’t think too hard Colin, you might lay an egg!”

His face cracked into a smile, and he leaned forward to sip his drink, the moment gone. 

“Ready for Desert, sir?” Alasdair’s familiar voice asked from the doorway. Henry nodded his consent and he turned on his heel and back down the hallway.

“I’m looking forward to this,” Colin rubbed his hands together, a mannerism he’d picked up from their father when they were much younger. It was an in joke in their household for a while, to see them both doing it when presented with a cake never fail to produce a laugh. 

“William always puts on a bit of a show for desert,” Lucy looked equally excited, and moments later, William himself entered the room, holding a steaming pie aloft. Behind him, a servant carried bowls for them and placed them down in each place. 

“Apple and Blackberry Crumble, I hope this lives up to the show Mrs Granville promised you,” He winked at Lucy and smiled warmly at the rest of the table. 

“It looks divine!” Benedict breathed in the warm and comforting aroma of caramelised fruits and crumble. 

“Oh William you might have outdone yourself,” 

“Well I was only making one desert, so I felt like it had to be really good. Please enjoy.” He bowed himself out of the room. 

“Thank you William,” Henry smiled and he eased himself forward. 

The other 3 were distracted by fighting over who got the spoon first, and so Benedict leaned to Henry, slightly worried about his subdued attitude and lacklustre movements. “My love are you quite alright?” He whispered under his breath, taking his hand and squeezing it. 

“Just a bit sore, my dear, it’s nothing to worry about,” 

“Do tell me if it gets any worse, we can leave early so you can retire?” 

“Don’t be silly, I will be fine.” He said, rather harshly, and took the spoon that Lucy offered to him. 

Desert passed without further incident however. Anthony got dark magenta crumble filling on his cravat and this prompted yet another alcohol induced round of laughter. The topic of conversation turned to gossip. As it usually did when one put Benedict and Lucy in a room together. 

“I tell you, Lord Cumberland is certainly having an affair!” She smacked her hand on the table for emphasis. 

“With you, no doubt,” 

She shuddered, “Benedict I would think you might know me a bit better than that, he’s much too…” 

She cast around for the right words, and Anthony spoke up, “Ugly? Toothy? Jowly?” 

“Ringing endorsement from my brother.” Colin laughed. 

“Who is he having the affair with? Because the general consensus is that he is no painting.”

“Probably someone equally jowly and unpleasant,” 

“Lady Blackwater,” both him and Anthony said at once. This, of course, set Lucy off laughing, before she regained herself. 

“That woman is a piece of work, like an old piece of chewing tobacco.”

Colin nearly choked on his mouthful of crumble.

“She manages to kill every conversation she enters,” 

“It’s got to be a talent at this point,” 

“Did you see her and her husband attempting to dance at the Brown’s ball? They dragged each other around the dancefloor, you could never be sure which one was leading!” 

“Nearly ploughing down some of the debutantes as they went!”

They lapsed into peals of laughter before they recovered themselves and turned back to their desert. Benedict noticed that Henry hadn’t touched a thing on his plate, electing to push it around the bowl. He caught his eye, glazed down at the bowl and raised his eyebrows. Henry fixed him with a look, so he turned back to his own bowl. He knew he could sometimes be overcautious and worrisome, a side effect of being partially responsible for so many children since he was a child himself. 

“Shall we retire to the drawing room? I have a pack of cards we could play over a pot of tea?” Lucy suggested, playing the main role of host as Henry still seemed stepped back and disassociated from the conversation. 

“Sounds perfect.” A small clatter was heard as they placed cutlery on top of their dishes, and readied themselves to leave. Henry hardly moved, and Benedict was starting to get worried. He pushed it away though, and helped stack the plates in the centre of the table. Lucy got up and led Colin and Antony halfway out the room. 

Still he made no move to stand up. 

“Henry?” he gently touched his hand to his hunched over shoulders. 

“One moment,” his words were slurred, although he hadn’t been drinking. He slowly pulled himself up, “I say,” his eyes widened, “I think I might faint.”

And he did. 

A spectacular swoon that brought down half the crockery where he gripped onto the table cloth. On instinct, Benedict yelled and jumped out of the way of the fallen china, but as soon as he regained himself, he knelt quickly and carefully next to Henry, undoing his cravat and fanning him with his hand. Lucy was by his side, her previous light and jovial mood replaced by worried focus. 

She pressed the back of her hand to Henry’s forehead, and hissed gently, “He’s too warm.”

“Should we move him into the bedroom?” Anthony suggested, kneeling beside Benedict and placing a hand of comfort on his back. 

The sound of smashing dishes had brought Alasdair to the dining room and he gasped from the doorway. “Should I send for a Doctor?” He walked over swiftly, quickly recovering his earlier shock. 

Lucy thought for a moment, before nodding, “Doctor Humphries has just returned from the country, get him.” Alasdair left the room and dimly Benedict heard him ordering the servants about. “And no, Mr Bridgerton, I’m going to see if he’ll wake to smelling salts first.” 

The maidservant who had been hovering at the door turned on her heel, presumably to fetch them. 

“That wasn’t just a hangover, was it?” His own voice sounded foreign to him. 

She turned to him and her eyes softened. “No." She pressed her lips together firmly, "He was a bloody fool for not telling us how bad he felt.” 

His fingers found themselves brushing the sandy blonde curls out of Henry’s face, and smoothing out the frown that was painted on his forehead. He was reminded of the day his grandfather had collapsed in the drawing room, they had been very young but the sick feeling of anxiety that had settled in his stomach when he saw his mother crying was the same one that plagued him now. But this wasn’t even slightly the same, he told himself, and was thankfully roused from that particular train of thought by the return of the maidservant. She handed Lucy the small blue jar of salts, and she uncorked it. Unconsciously, Benedict leaned back and away as she knelt down to hold it close to Henry’s face. 

A few moments later, his nose bridge crinkled, and he heaved a sigh of relief. Moments later, his eyes cracked open and Lucy removed and recorked the jar. 

Even in the minimal candle light, he flinched. His eyes landed on Benedict and he half smiled, before screwing up his features in pain. “‘M cold,” He mumbled and Benedict placed a hand on his forehead. 

He nearly burnt beneath his fingers, “You don’t feel cold, my love.” 

“I didn’t - mng - worry you, did I?” 

“Not for a moment.” 

“Feel all-” He was cut off by a cough, one that Benedict felt with a lurch in his gut as he helped him sit up. Lucy held his arm, supporting from one side. 

“Can you walk upstairs? It would be easier if the doctor could see you in bed.” 

His voice was hoarse when he next spoke, “I hardly think I need a doc-” he stopped when he saw the glare Lucy fixed him with. “I may need an arm.” His speech was still mumbled, but Benedict just about caught it. 

“When you’re ready to move, I’ll help you upstairs.”

He sucked in a shaky breath and hooked an arm around Benedict’s shoulders. 

The walk upstairs was slow and painful, Henry leaning further and further on him to the point where it would have been more efficient to just carry him. Benedict didn’t suggest so, however, out of fear of patronising Henry, and they soldered on. Anthony and Colin respectfully remained downstairs, and Lucy walked just behind them, a cautious arm ready in case they slipped. 

It was remarkable how a slight panic could clear your head of alcohol and Benedict was very thankful that he was not attempting this while too drunk. Luckily Henry’s bedroom was not far, and a servant ran ahead to open the door. Now they were on the flat, the journey was a lot easier, despite Henry’s laboured and slightly rattling breaths. 

He was nearly passed out again by the time he lowered him onto the bed. Benedict pressed a kiss to his too-warm forehead, and helped arrange the bedding to be more comfortable. 

He looked back up and his eyes met Lucy’s. “I have to go, don’t I?” His voice cracked and he cringed. She looked at him and grimaced. 

“Yes, you do,” 

Despite his integration into their lives, this was one thing he could not be part of. No matter how close of friends the world thought they were, it would be questioned if the doctor saw him here. And it would be selfish and foolish for him to throw away years of caution because he was worried.  _ When _ Henry got better, he would never forgive him if his actions led to either one of them hanging. 

“Please send word if…”

“I’ll let you know what the Doctor says. It’s probably just a strange reaction to a hangover.” 

They both nodded, but neither actually believed it. No hangover looked like this.

He knelt down at the bedside, and embraced Henry, who despite his lack of awareness, reciprocated as best he could. 

Without ceremony, he left. Anthony and Colin were readying to leave downstairs, but he climbed into the carriage without acknowledging them. On the journey home they exchanged words that Benedict didn’t take in, the only thing he was aware of was the sick feeling that had settled into his stomach the moment he had seen Henry fall. 

**Author's Note:**

> so uh... hi!   
> My chapters are quite short, but i hope you enjoy them nonetheless!   
> You can chose to enjoy this as part of the OoC universe, but it can be read separately if you wish :)  
> (and yes that was a maurice reference what was i gonna do?? not reference it???)
> 
> I'm not 100% happy with the tags or the summary but they are what they are for now.


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